


Friends Before Benefits

by orphan_account



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Marvel, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fluff, M/M, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-27
Updated: 2017-05-27
Packaged: 2018-11-05 09:03:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11010264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: When Deadpool is employed to hit Peter Parker, he has to sneak past Spidey's senses. What better way to do that then befriend him and bring down villain or two in the process? Little does he know, Peter is more endearing than he planned for and Spider-Man is not who he expected. And, really? Who could resist that ass?





	Friends Before Benefits

Old Faithful creaked under Wade's weight as he stretched out on the stained La-Z-Boy. Come to think of it, the thing probably used to be tan, but now? Now it's a variety of much more interesting green and brown stains. Wade considered it an artistic work in progress.

_Baby can't you see, I'm callin'. A guy like you should wear a warnin'. It's dangerous, I'm fallin'._

“Yeah, yeah, I got it. Take a break, Britney,” Wade yawned, flipping open the throwaway phone, “Deadpool! Here to kill for a bill. How may I help you today, fine Sir?”

“I need a man dead,” a sickly sweet voice flowed through the junky speaker.

“Mmm, that's what they usually want, and who is this man? Or is that all the information I have to go on, because I'm no Nancy Drew. If I was then I wouldn't be wasting my-”

“Peter Parker. He's a junior at Midtown High, one of the numerous high schools in Queens,” the silken words informed.

“Let me stop you there, Mystery Man. I'm not about to go out and hit a kiddy, so...” Wade trailed off, “How'd the kid offend you so much anyways? Did his stupid sarcasm and angsty comments get to you? C'mon man, you know it's how they are after popping their first hard one.”

Deadpool was well versed in what his employers were like. Usually, they had a very, _very_ long stick shoved up their ass and not even in the feel good, fuck me way either. They either threatened or ignored the constant jabbering, but this man chuckled.

“The audacity!” Wade gasped, “What's your angle, you obtuse isosceles?” He typed in the possible target's name on a “work” laptop which may or may not have been used for some _other_ recreational uses. On occasion.

The first links found were articles on Oscorp's new program for gifted high schoolers. A program allowing ten students from New York to work as interns, helping them to get “a real feel for the Oscorp world”.

“I would like you to 'hit', as you so simply put it, Mr. Parker, due to his suspected involvement in, ah, how should I phrase it? Human experimentation.”

“You've got me hooked. Keep me interested before I decide I have those morals people are always talking about, so annoying, and reject the offer.” Deadpool scrolled through the Facebook feed of a certain, Peter Parker. A slim boy with mousy hair and, dare he say it, an ass second only to his BFFLWHPB, Spidey's. He looked innocent enough, a bit like a twink, but you never know what can hide behind a pretty face, just like a bottle of Mad About You hand lotion. Seemingly tasty when you smell it, but once it's in your mouth, you're in hell.

“He's proven himself a friend of the company owner, Harry Osborn. This means that he is most likely associated with the Osborn's theorized attempt to manufacture mutations in live organisms.”

“Buckaroonie, Imma stop you right there. Your using all the Red Flag words of, 'I have no idea if what I'm saying is true.'”

“Excuse me?”

“Ya'know, the Red Flag words. With the capital 'R' and the capital 'F',” he distractedly replied. Wade clicked on a photo of Peter in front of the Osborn building giving an awkward, if not uncomfortable, thumbs up. Underneath the picture, a conversation of, “Congratulations!” and, “Go you!”'s had unfolded. “Words like 'theorized' and 'suspected'. You aren't sure he's a baddy, _are_ you?” Wade accused pointing his finger at the air as if Mr. Child Condemner was there to see.

“Ah yes, the so-called Red Flag words. I admit, I'm not one hundred percent certain, but the risk is too high to simply ignore. I'll pay a maximum of 100k for your services.”

“Nah. A _presumed_ evil scientist is gonna cost ya',” Wade drawled. He closed out of the tab and picked at the grime and blood caked under his nails.

“I'm sorry, but this is non-negotiable.”

“I'm sorry, but if I kill an _innocent_? It needs to be worth something,” Wade growled into the receiver, “This is non-negotiable.”

“150k, no higher, and you'll go about this delicately.”

“We're coming back to my pay, but I wanna know.” Deadpool's voice had reverted back to his common bouncy, child-like tone, “Why're you hiring me to do this delicately? I'm known for my shooty bang bang, get the job done despite all consequences. Hell, the word 'consequence' isn't even in my vocab!”

“Unsurprising, you have proven your vocabulary doesn't quite extend from my palm to my fingertips,” the employer sighed.

“Hey, only I can insult mysel-”

“You must do this delicately, because Mr. Parker was previously employed by Jonah J. Jameson to photograph Spider-Man. Peter verified that he has talked to, or at least been in contact with, Spider-Man when reporters questioned him. You'll need to figure out a way to get past The Spider's heightened senses to complete this job, hence the delicacy you must posses.

“Alright, chill with the exposition, I'll take the job.”

“Perfect,” the man purred, “I will contact you shortly to further discuss your payment.”

He snapped the phone shut (oh, the satisfaction) and popped up from his trusty chair, heading to the kitchen. Humming, the merc yanked open a drawer brimming with wires and bits of unused tech. As gloved fingers rummaged through the drawer he pulled his phone from a pouch yet again. It rang twice.

“What do you need now?”

“Aw, Weaz! You came! You got anything I can use to get past The Amazing Spider-Man™ and his weird tingly thing?”

“You're insane. More so than usual. Did you get hired to kill the son of a bitch? A superhero, Wade? Really?”

“No, geez! Calm down, man. I got hired to kill a buddy of his. Mr. Petey Parker, to be exact. Long story short, I need to get past Spidey's senses so I can get around to killing the so-called 'evil scientist'.” Wade paused, picking up a small device to inspect it closely, “And doesn't that make me the real hero? Killing the bad guys?”

An exasperated sigh poured through the phone, “This is _so_ incredibly stupid. I'm gonna need you to get data. You can do the right?”

“Yessiree, I'm lookin' for that little bio-tracker thingamajig you gave me,” he dropped the device in the drawer and continued his half-assed search.

“Yeah, that might work- wait. I didn't give that to you! Wade, I told you to stop steal-”

“Stop stealing your shiz, yeah, I got you. So how do I use it?”

“Just make sure it's on and planted somewhere near a vital organ. The info will be sent to me so I can figure out something to get past his senses. And after this job, I want my bio-tracker back,” Weasel grumbled, ending the call.

 

 

 

Some of these guys just needed to get over themselves and realize, they won't be able to tranquilize Spider-Man. _Ever_. Yet the D-List mercenary was still trying to lodge a dart into him. His gun had been stuck to the wall ages ago and now all he could do was try and to stab Peter with the tranq. It had been seemingly an eternity and the merc was only now beginning to lose hope.

“I just feel sorry for you, man. Are you sure you don't want to just cut this short and keep your dignity intact?” Peter offered, his genuine undertone lost on the hired killer. “C'mon man! This isn't getting us anywhere and I have exams soon. I'm so tired,” Peter sighed. As he talked the man only grunted, jerkily lashing out with the dart only to have it slip from his hand with the assistance of Peter's webbing.

“Are you kidding me?” he squawked, attempting to land a solid kick to Peter's legs only to have his own webbed to the wall.

“Well, you lasted longer than I thought you would? Does that help?” Peter sympathized as he trapped the merc's arms against the alley wall, without ease mind you.

“Fuck.” His head flopped back against the brick. He began to grumble, “Can't catch a fucking break, can I.”

“Well, how about you tell me who employed you and I give you five bucks. I mean, I only have three right now, but I'll get you that two when you're in a cell. That'd be a nice break, yeah?”

The guy didn't even grace him with an answer, instead choosing to look at him incredulously.

“I know, I know. Not a lot compared to what you were going to get but, hey, it's the most you'll be earning in a while. So,” Peter began loudly, clapping his hands together, “how about you give me a name and I give you that five- three, sorry.”

“Shut up,” he spat through clenched teeth. Peter had just opened his mouth to deliver his retort when his attacker's expression morphed into one of horror. A familiar voice sounded off behind him and Peter followed suit.

“Yoo-hoo, Spider-Man!”

“What do you want, Deadpool.” Peter spun on his heels, looking up at the leather clad man with bitterness easily conveyed through the mask.

“I just missed you a whole lot and thought I'd come visit you at work. It's always nice to meet a customer- hold up. Are you _fucking_ me, Buck?” Deadpool's voice dropped, lower than Peter thought possible, into a snarl, “I thought I told you and the boys, hands off _my things_.”

“Wade! I didn't realize The Spider counted. Honest, just- shit,” he begged, the evident panic swelling the closer Wade stalked.

“Deadpool! Stop, this isn't what I need right now and I'm not _your_ _thing_ ,” Peter snapped. He latched his hand on a broad shoulder, fingers forcefully digging in as a warning.

“Oops!” The drop off between Deadpool's way of speaking never failed to surprise Peter. “I forgot you were still going with The Super Hero Code of Honor. I'm happy to do the dirty work for you, Sweetums. I'm happy to do _any_ work for you. So what'll it be death, pain, or my personal favorite, both.”

“None of the above! I jut need to know who hired him, and I can figure that out myself,” Peter lectured, voice bouncing off the high walls.

“But, you've just been talking when I could just do _this_ -” Wade whipped a knife out of a pouch as Peter shot webs at his back. The blade was launched into Buck's hand before Peter could web Wade to the opposite wall, not having anticipated a far range attack.

“Shit! Dr. Whold! You fucking bastard,” Buck swore through clenched teeth, expletives pouring from his mouth as fast a the blood flowing from his hand.

“No, Deadpool! That is a big no-no!” Peter ranted. He spun towards Buck, webbing his hand as a make shift bandage before hanging him from a handy lamp post near the alley entrance.

“Untrue, and I got it done a lot faster than your three dollar bribe. So, you're very welcome,” Wade gibed pairing the prod with a mock bow. A mock bow that looked more like he was doubling over due to both hands being stuck above his head.

“God.” Peter pinched he brow, “Why are you even in New York?”

“Which one, New York, Florida or New York, Iowa?”

“Why are you _here_ and how did you find me?” Peter asked, motioning to the city around them with a sweeping arm.

“One, my job takes me places you wouldn't believe, and two, I just followed my heart, Baby Boy! Isn't that obvious?”

“God, help me,” Peter breathed out, “Look, you can't just go around _stabbing_ people. That isn't how society works. I don't know if you've heard, but there's this thing called morals. You should invest in them if you want to stay in this city.”

“And if I don't? I'm very stingy with my cash. That word, _invest_ , got my chewing up my nails.”

“If you don't, then I'll personally escort you out of the city. Maybe even the state. Do you understand?”

“You'll be an escort? For me? I have to admit, I didn't know you followed that line of work, but I'm not one to complain.”

“That's not what I meant!” Peter crossed his arms, frustrated.

“Sure, sure. Aw, you're just the cutest when you get all defensive! Cut me down now? And while I'm asking so much of you, hit me with your number?”

“I'll let you go.” Deadpool perked up at this only to be diffused by Peter's next sentence, “But, you have to follow my rules. No murdering, maiming, or robbing anyone. If you have to use any guns, which I strongly advise against, _do not_ aim to kill. I'm giving you this one chance, don't screw it up. And, no. No number.” As he listed off the rules his mind was racing to fill in the holes, Where _did he even come from? How long had he been watching? He knows I wouldn't give away my number so why bother asking?_

“Well, you just took all the fun out of it,” Wade mumbled, thinking, _There's no way we can finish the job without upsetting him. This is gonna be a shit show, huh? He's a hero though, he's got to forgive me a some point. Right?_

Peter stepped towards Deadpool before wavering to a stop in front of him. “I don't have anything to cut through it with, your knife you stabbed that guy, Buck, with is somewhere in the street with him,” Peter trailed off.

“Take off my shoe,” Wade replied with a wiggling foot.

“What? I don't think that'll help much right now.”

“I gotta boot knife,” Wade pronounced like a bragging six year old.

“Huh,” Peter echoed. He crouched down and tugged Wade's boot off and retrieved the sharpened blade. He popped back up and sliced the webbing before peeling it off Wade's suit.

“Thanks! You sure I can't have those digits though? Pretty please?”

“No. Just go before I before I regret this and web you to the wall again.”

“Wait! Wait, wait. I've got a better idea,” he fished around one of his many, many pouches before producing a scratched burner phone. “Have mine! I already know the number, too!” Wade shoved the phone into

Peter's hands.

“I-” he started, surprised at the sudden... gift?

“We'll meet again, Baby Boy! Don't no where don't know when, but we'll meet again song sunny day!" Wade crooned, slapping Peter's ass, earning him a menacing glare and an arm webbed to his side, his attempts to skip away futile. Giving a quick, two finger salute he disappeared around the corner.

Peter stared down at the phone in his hands, contemplating his options, until finally calling the police to his location. At least it was useful for something.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed! There's more to come, so stick around and be proud of me for working out an actual plot! Oh, and here's some new vocab. BFFLWHPB is an acronym for Best Friends For Life With Hopefully Possible Benefits.


End file.
